My car refused to start about half an hour ago. There's absolutely no way I am not going to be written up for attendance at work now. Oh yippee yay. It's not like there's anyone I can call at six thirty in the morning to give me a jump though. I guess I'm going to have to go out and get a new battery or something. I really don't need that right now after having spent so much on that concert a couple of weeks back. That's what happens. When I spend money on frivilous things, non-frivilous things decide to BITE ME IN THE ASS. Not to mention I have a buttload of things to do at work and it's now going to fall on someone elses shoulders...a someone else who is bound to be pissed off at me.

That's life for you, huh? A bit of a comedy.

Anyway...before I knew my my car broke down I was bored and waiting to go to work and Googled the city of my birth, which I know nothing about, Twentynine Palms. It seems weird to have been born in a such a place when I'm so in love with and accustomed to the lush greeness that is Florida. Brown, dry red desert. If my dad hadn't been a Marine I wouldn't have been born there. It's nothing like Florida, where the air is so thick it's hard to breathe sometimes (and I've been here virtually my whole life so you'd think I'd be used to it). And it's always, always green here. And swampy in some places for sure but still green. I love Florida. Hate the humidity but love the state.

I wish my car worked.

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